


Alone?

by NoelEnough



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Dissociation, Drinking, Dubious Consent, F/M, Kissing, Mental Breakdown, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 18:25:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13507254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoelEnough/pseuds/NoelEnough
Summary: Lily is a successful criminal in Los Santos, but tonight she's dealing with something bigger than a heist. Feelings suck man.





	Alone?

          I tossed my head back as I knocked down another shot of vodka. I no longer felt the burn as it flowed down my throat, but my aching heart still beat dully in my chest. I set the shot glass down on the table, opting to drink straight from the bottle to drown the pain faster. I let out a long, shuddering sigh and sank back into the couch. My life was sad enough as is, now I was drinking to try and make myself forget about it. Trying to use vodka to burn away the brain cells that cared.

          Who really cared though? Who cared about the sad criminal lifestyle of a lonely woman? The tightness in my chest grew as I thought about my situation. Vixen, one of the most successful loners in Los Santos, was drinking herself stupid over a man.

          Just the thought of him sent chills down my spine and my toes curled reflexively. The memory of his hands pinning me to the wall as he fucked me made the ache temporarily moved from my chest to my groin. It had only been a few days since our last tryst, but my body longed for him. That longing made my desire snap into anger and I kicked the coffee table in front of me. The furniture came to a stop a foot away from where it had been and glasses and papers flew across the floor.

          _What had I done to deserve this?_ I wondered as I sat forward again, taking a long drink from the bottle in my hand. What did I do to deserve to be abandoned by my fiancé in the hell hole known as Los Santos? And just when I got into the swing of criminal activity as a form of income and stress relief, I met _him_.

          The first night I tangoed with him was so fresh in my mind, I had to remind myself it was 7 months ago. The Fakes had bungled their way into the bank I was robbing and trapped me in the vault. I had to check Mogar into the wall in order to get out. I thought I was home free and running through an alley a few blocks away when I was shoved into the wall. I blindly punched my assailant’s direction and landed the hit around his shoulder. We traded blows and threw each other around the alley for a solid ten minutes before he finally had me pinned against the wall. The image of those blue eyes framed by the black eye sockets, the tired pants that echoed through his skull mask, the feeling of his erection rubbing against my thigh, it all made the same wicked grin cross my face, even now as I sat alone on my couch. He loved how I could fight back.

          What started as back alley head, turned to rough sex in his car that stained and ripped the upholstery. He told me it was ok, that the cost of repair was well worth listening to me moan his name. When that got old, he decided to follow me home one night. That night he fucked me hard on the kitchen counter until I screamed that I was his, and only then did he grant me release. I should have been pissed. I should have killed him for demeaning me like that. Just because he was _the_ Vagabond, didn’t mean he could treat me like that and get away scott free. Instead, I melted into his arms as he carried me to bed and whispered how beautiful I was until I was asleep. That’s what made it all so god damned sad.

          We had never seen each other’s faces, going so far as him painting his face so he could dig his teeth into my body but still hide his identity. My mask could be moved away from my mouth and still cover most of my face, which made for easy access. My lips tingled at the thought of his lips touching them. He knew I loved his kisses, and thus doled them out as a reward for being receptive.

          I had spent a lot of time wondering if this was wrong. If he was abusing me, and if I let him do it only because I was lonely. Then he didn’t show up for a month. I physically ached for him and cried at how hollow I felt without him. I was so overjoyed when he showed up one night, I threw myself into his arms and knocked him over. He had been shot in the leg, and needed to rest. That night I was on top for the first time, and as I drifted off to sleep while he rubbed my back I decided that it was okay. Abuse or not, I couldn’t get enough of the feeling of him inside me. The way he looked between my thighs when he went down on me. The way he ran his fingers gently across the still sensitive divots he had left with his nails. I loved it. I loved him.

          My body shook with sobs and hot tears streamed down my cheeks. I couldn’t control my pained cries as I dropped the vodka and buried my face in my hands. Only I could have fallen in love with a man who only saw me as a sex toy. I curled up into a ball and screamed into my knees. The tightness in my chest made me choke on each sob. I barely knew the man. We had spent a few nights talking idly in the afterglow of sex, but I wouldn’t say I knew him. I knew so little but was so heartbroken over him. Over what was probably just an easy lay to him. After a long time, my screams turned into quiet sobs and sniffles.

          “Vixen?” a familiar voice called out, breaking through my sad, drunken stupor. I jerked my head up and looked in the direction of the voice. I wiped the tears from my eyes and Vagabond came into focus. I hadn’t heard him come in through my garage like he always did. I scowled as I saw the worried look in his eyes and realized the position I was in. He wanted a strong woman, and here I was, at my weakest.

          “I’m not in the mood tonight, Vagabond,” I said and reburied my face in my knees. My body shook with every inhale and it made me mad. I didn’t want him to see me like this. He’d see weakness and like cat toying with a mouse, he’d leave and never come back, the thrill of the hunt gone.

          He crossed the room, boots thumping against the hardwood floors in a familiar timbre that made me relax a little despite myself. He stopped in front of me and I peeked out to see him. He was wearing his usual outfit: black jeans and leather jacket over a printed t-shirt. He wasn’t wearing his mask, just the full face paint covered his face. I couldn’t help but to smile and wonder what he had in mind for tonight. He surveyed the area in front of the couch, taking in the shattered glass from me kicking the table and half-empty bottle of Smirnoff that had rolled away from where I had dropped it. He gently nudged the paperwork on the floor with his foot as he skimmed their contents. I honestly couldn’t remember what they were and couldn’t be bothered to worry about him reading them. He looked over at me and just stared for a minute. I hid my face again, the embarrassment curdling in my stomach.

          “What’s wrong?” he asked and stood in front of me. His voice was even and I couldn’t get a read on his intentions. Before I could really think about my answer, I pulled my head up and looked at him. He had squatted down to be closer to level with me. His eye’s flickered away from mine as they scanned my face. The realization that I wasn’t wearing my mask hit me like a truck and only brought me even lower. _How could I allow myself to be this vulnerable around him?_

          “Why do you care?” I huffed and he snapped his attention back to my eyes.

          “What?” he responded, clearly taken back by my reaction.

          “Why do you care what’s wrong with me?” I muttered, finally uncurling myself and sitting cross-legged on the couch. He blinked a few times as he processed the question. He looked away from me as he thought of an answer. His silence stabbed me in the heart.

 _Just lie to me already._ I thought. _Tell me some sweet nothing and get it over with._ I shook my head and reached for the vodka. I lost my balance and started to tumble forward. I gasped as his arms scooped me up before I hit the floor. He grunted as he stood up with me in his arms.

          “I’ve never seen you like this, that’s why,” He said as he started towards my bedroom.

          “Like what?” I grunted into his shoulder. “Like a human and not a toy?”

          “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he snapped and stopped. I wriggled out of his grip and fell to the floor with a hard thud. I stumbled up and stood to face him. My head swam as my alcohol addled brain tried to keep up with the sudden movements. Once the haze cleared a little, I could see that his brows were furrowed with confusion. I sneered at him. _What was so hard to understand?_

          “It means I’m done!” I shouted, throwing my hands in the air. “I’m done being your plaything! I’m done letting you walk all over me and my house like you own me! I’m more than a quick lay! I’m not just a dumb bitch you can fuck senseless then leave behind.” I took a deep, shuddering breath as more tears flowed from my eyes. I could practically feel the venom dripping from my tongue, as months of frustration and closeted feelings came rushing forward.

           “I’m not gonna let you hurt me like that! I don’t wanna hurt like that again. I don’t want to be used until I’m not good enough anymore. Not again!” I barked at him. The pity and sadness in his eyes only fueled the fire in me.

           “Vixi,” He said softly and reached out for me.

           “See!?” I screeched. His tone ripped open an old wound in my soul. A fresh wave of pain rocked my body. “That’s exactly how my fiancé sounded before he left! You don’t even know my name and you sound just like him. So just leave! Leave like he did!” My knees wobbled and gave out as I screamed through my sobs. Instead of feeling the pain of my knees hitting the floor, I felt Vagabond’s strong arms lift me up.

           I threw my arms around his shoulders as he pressed me against the wall for support. I dug my nails into the soft leather that covered his back as years of bottled pain came surging out of me. I buried my face in his shoulder and cried harder than I ever had before. Every gasp for air filled my nose with the sweet smell of leather and his cologne. The smell was soothing, and I started to relax. My sobs became quieter and my bones creaked as the muscles released their tension. I became aware that Vagabond was rubbing my back and softly shushing in my ear.

          Once I had calmed down enough, he gently guided me to the floor and draped his jacket across my shoulders. I pulled it closed around me and took a deep breath, savoring his scent. My head fell back, hitting the wall with a small thump, and I stared up at the ceiling.

          My stomach churned. Maybe it was the booze and crying, maybe it was the idea of Vagabond witnessing this part of me. Either way, I focused on a stain above me to trying to make the feeling go away.

          After my stomach had mostly settled, I took in a long shuddering breath, like I had forgotten to breathe. I blinked and rubbed my eyes trying to focus on something. Vagabond was the first thing that came into view as he pushed my coffee table back into its proper position. I was surprised to see that he had cleaned my living room. He had picked up the broken glass, piled up the loose paper, and found the lid to my bottle of alcohol. He noticed me looking at him and crossed back over to me. He held his hand out to me to help me up.

         “I’m sorry,” I croaked, my voice raspy from crying. The buzz of drunkenness was wearing off and I began to feel myself hurt from head to toe, a steady throbbing building in the back of my head.

         “It’s ok,” he said and kissed my forehead. Butterflies took off in my stomach at the touch, but the feeling only brought back the churning.

         “You’re hurt, and it’s perfectly normal to lash out when hurt,” he gently rubbed my cheek with his thumb before adding, “Though I would have appreciated it if I had done more to incur that rage than fuck you silly.”

         I let out a short huff and smiled weakly. His hand on my cheek felt so good, I didn’t want it to leave. My heart sunk at the prospect of him leaving soon. His expression remained soft which was odd. In the dark of night, I had felt that expression before. I remember running my hands along his face, trying to imagine him without all the paint, and feeling that look. I had assumed it was just his relaxed face. I snorted as I wiped my nose with the sleeve of his jacket and froze as I realized just how much snot was on my face.

         “Let’s get you cleaned up,” He laughed softly, placing a hand on my back to guide me towards the master suite.

         I washed my face and tried to use a cool rag to reduce the puffiness in my face. I could hear him finishing up cleaning in the kitchen as I stared at myself in the mirror. My eyes and nose were still red, but for the most part I wasn’t puffy anymore. I was wiping the snot from his jacket when he came into the bathroom.

         “Don’t worry about it,” he said with a lazy wave towards it, “It’s had much worse on it.”

         For the first time in a long time, I remembered just who I was dealing with and smiled at the situation. The master criminal and psychopath Vagabond, whose name elicited images of explosions and blood, was standing behind me looking at me with a softness I had never seen before.

         “There’s a hot tea on your night stand, go get comfy. I’ll be out in a minute,” he ordered and nudged me towards the door. I complied and left him to his own devices.

         I stripped off the clothes I had been wearing and put on an oversized shirt. I didn’t bother with underwear. He knew what was there. I walked over to my bed and saw a steaming cup of tea with two ibuprofens beside it. I laughed quietly. I was used to aftercare from him, but not like this. I took the pills and chased them down with the tea. I sighed, sat on the bed, and took another sip.

         “Why did you come here anyway?” I asked. It had only just occurred to me that he was just here a few nights ago. There was usually a week or so between visits.

         “Funnily enough,” he said as he left my bathroom, “to talk about our relationship.”

         I turned to face him and froze. He wiped some water off his cheek with a rag stained black before tossing it back into the bathroom. His face was red from him scrubbing the paint off. The stubble that I had felt brush my skin a thousand times was now very clear on his bare face. I marveled at how he could hide his solid jawline and round cheeks with just some black and white paint.

         He was so much more attractive than I had imagined, and for some reason, so much more real. Wet strands of his blond hair stuck to his face and his eyes were trained on me as he sat next to me on the bed. He reached out and used a finger to close my mouth with an audible clack as my teeth hit each other. He chuckled as my cheeks warmed with blush. I looked away from him and only blushed more as I noticed that he was only in his boxers.

         His thumb rubbed my cheek and I looked back up at him.

         “You’re much prettier when you’re not ugly crying,” he said with a shit-eating grin. I rolled my eyes and pulled away from him. “What?” he laughed as I set my tea back on my nightstand.

         “What about our relationship did you want to talk about?” I asked as I turned to face him completely. The grin faded to a small smile and a red flush returned to his cheeks.

         “I want to start by saying I’m sorry,” he said and sat up with one leg on the bed next to me and the other still hanging off the side of the bed.

         “For?” I asked.

         “For making you feel like you were just an object to me,” he looked away from me, shame creeping into his expression. “Though at first you were.”

          I winced at the statement, but the word ‘first’ kept me from beating him into a bloody pulp right there.

         “That first night in the alley, the fight,” he groaned and his eyes rolled with pleasure. “It was so great. Most sane people avoid me like the plague, but you fought back, and it was so fucking hot.”

         “Maybe I’m not sane,” I interjected and he smiled as he gave me a small wink. I giggled and let him continue.

         “I needed you in a way I had never felt,” he said. His eyes started to glaze over a bit as he remembered. “I was used to the blood lust, the need to cause destruction and pain, but you were different. I need you.” He uttered that last sentence through gritted teeth and I could feel a familiar warmth ignite in my abdomen. I bit my lip and tried to ignore it. I definitely wasn’t sane.

         “I needed you and only you. No one else could touch you,” he said, looking directly into my eyes with a lustful shadow darkening his face. “I wanted to keep you tied up somewhere, so I could use you when I needed.” He had started to creep closer to me, his eyes totally glazed over. I hoped his reminiscent state would keep him from ignoring how turned on I was. I hated myself a little. I just freaked out for this very reason, but now I was ready to let him ravage me.

         “Soon it wasn’t enough to have you fogging up the windows of my car, that’s when I followed you home,” a small smirk tugged one side of his lips up. “I’ll admit. Not my proudest moment, but I needed more of you. Your screams of pleasure fueled something in me I didn’t know I had. You became a drug to me. I became desperate for my next hit.” The shadow faded and he became aware of his proximity to me and backed away. He took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

         “When I was laid up after getting shot, I went nuts,” he continued. “Everyone in the crew wouldn’t come near me for fear of getting their heads ripped off. As it started to wear off, I was afraid. I didn’t like the way you made me lose control like that. I decided that it needed to end. It needed to stop before I got worse,” he paused and looked up at me with a sad look in his eyes, “or hurt.”

         I stopped and thought for a moment. It had never even crossed my mind that maybe he was worried I would abandon him. I felt selfish for assuming he would be the one to do that.

        “But,” I said after a long, silent moment. I remembered the night he first let me ride him. He let out a short laugh.

        “But when I came here, you threw yourself at me. I could tell you were genuinely happy to see me again. The fire I had tried to suppress reignited and I couldn’t help myself. And when you hopped up on top of me,” he sighed and bit his lip, closing his eyes to better remember.

        “You were so fucking beautiful up there,” he cooed and absentmindedly ran his hand along my thigh. “I just let you have control, and for the first time I was okay with someone else taking the lead like that.”

         I thought back and tried to make some connections. Riding him became a regular occurrence after that, though he did still like to pin me to a wall and make me scream. I also realized that after that night, was when he started to go down on me.

        “After that, I realized that I didn’t need you like a drug to satisfy my primal needs,” he said and broke my train of thought, “I needed the release. I needed to feel your pleasure. The longer we were apart, the more I felt like I was missing a part of me I didn’t know I had.”

         A tear fell down his cheek and he looked at me, sadness and fear floating in his eyes. I swallowed hard and tried not to cry again.

        “When I walked in and saw you crying, I panicked,” his voice was almost a whisper as more tears flowed down his face. “I thought I had fucked it up. I thought I had finally hurt you, or that you were gonna tell me it was over.” He inhaled sharply and wiped his face. We were silent for a moment as he collected himself.

         I reached up and took his cheek into my palm. He looked into my eyes as his mouth opened and closed like he was trying to say something. Finally, he just pulled me into a rough but passionate kiss. I let him pull me into his lap as he placed kisses all over my face. When he stopped, he pressed our foreheads together and rubbed his nose against mine.

        “Vixi,” he murmured and held me close, “I… I love you.” My heart jumped into my throat and I felt like I was going to explode. My body shook as I released every muscle I didn’t know I was tensing.

        “I love you too,” I said back.

        As soon as the words left my lips, he sealed my mouth with his. His tongue lapping at my own with a hunger he had been keeping to himself for so long. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and held him close as he bit a trail down my neck. His hands slid up my back and I felt him smile against my skin as he realized I wasn’t wearing underwear. I let out a surprised laugh as the threw me down onto the mattress. I yanked off my shirt as he stepped out of his boxers and climbed up on top of me. He settled down on me and his eyes drank in every part of my face.

        “Lily,” I said. He blinked once and looked at me blankly.

        “My name is Lily,” I said again. A smile spreads across his face.

        “Lily,” he repeats. Hearing him say my name gives me chills and my heart soars.

        “My name is Ryan,” he says, closing his eyes and resting his head in the crook of my neck. I repeat his name and I could feel his body bristle at the sound.

        “That’s gonna be a whole lot easier to moan than Vagabond,” I said and feel the low growl he releases into my neck. I let a wicked grin spread across my face. I slowly bucked my hips into his.

        “Imagine how easy it will be for me to scream,” I hissed. His head slowly lifted and he looked at me with a lustful look I was so familiar with.

        “I don’t want to imagine,” he kissed my cheek. “So be a good girl, and scream for me.”

         With that, he bit down hard enough on my neck that I felt one of his canines break skin. The desire I had been repressing all night came rushing out as I writhed beneath him, a scream of pleasure already in my throat. Before I could release the scream, his hand shot up and covered my mouth turning it into muffled moans as he licked and kissed where he just bit.

        “But not yet Lily,” he growled, putting an emphasis on the L’s that made my toes curl. “First let me have a little fun.”

         I nodded fervently as he kissed a line down my body, the low chuckle I felt reverberating through me and shaking loose any remaining reservations I had.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first adventure into fan fiction in a long time, and first time ever in AH. I hope I did Ryan justice. Thanks to @0utlndr for being my beta.


End file.
